


Sweet Summer Sun

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: The Golden Years [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can't quite remember the past and the future stretches out in hazy summer days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Summer Sun

**Author's Note:**

> 'Watership Down' is read here and quoted twice. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.

Sometimes the entirety of his twenties and most of this thirties seemed to have happened to someone else. Sam can remember them if he must, yet there’s a foreign blur as if he watched them on television. He read a lot about the mind when they first retired and learned that it had a remarkable way of protecting itself. Maybe that Vaseline smeared glass over all those terrible years was an intentional move on his brain’s part. 

He appreciated it, if it was. During those years he imagined all sorts of futures. They all stopped short at about forty. Even the good ones like wife and kids had the bloody tint of life cut away abruptly. When he lost faith in happy endings, he had mostly hoped for his death to be quick and that he and Dean would go at the same time. 

“Hey.” Dean kicked him lightly. “You gonna keep going or not?” 

They were on the wicker couch together, Sam sitting and Dean’s legs mostly in his lap. Castiel sat at Sam’s feet, reassembling the lawn mower engine. The summer sun died on the horizon, but Dean’s fire pit threw off enough light for Castiel’s work and Sam’s reading. If he was allowed to read.

“I’ve been rubbing your calf for an hour, if the knot hasn’t come out by now then you’re just gonna have to sleep it off or go see the doctor.” Sam rolled his eyes, but went back to kneading the betraying muscle. 

“How did you do it again?” Castiel asked mildly. 

“I tripped.” Dean grumbled, one arm thrown over his eyes to hide lingering embarrassment. “There was a root.” 

“They do crop up unexpectedly.” Two rods click together and Castiel made a soft pleased noise. 

“You should eat more bananas.” Sam ran his hand down Dean’s calf to cup the sole of his foot. Dean had long toes and they flexed a little as Sam dug his thumb into the sole. “Potassium prevents muscle cramps.” 

“I can’t eat banana since you up chucked it all over the back seat.” 

“That was nearly forty years ago, man. Get over it.” 

“No.” Dean wrinkled his nose. “That smell lingers forever.” 

In their twenties, they had been all angles and open sores with each other. In their thirties, it had sharpened into blades and pus-filled infections. Sam blotted out most of that too. He took comfort in their ease with each other these days. Washed clean of guilt, responsibility and the day to day agony of a hunter’s life, Dean was a well-worn t-shirt with holes and wrinkles, whisper soft against Sam’s skin. 

“You should read.” Castiel determined, rubbing greasy fingertips on a rag. “I want to know what happens next.” 

“Its about rabbits.” Dean groaned. “What’s wrong with the two of you?” 

“Where’d I leave off?” Sam picked up the paperback, ignoring Dean’s protest at his abandoned footrub. 

“Oh, the fight with the warriors from the other warren.” Castiel leaned back, settling against Sam’s good leg. 

“Efrafa.” Dean provided. 

“Yes, just so.” 

“Right.” Sam hid his smile in the pages. “With a kind of wry envy, Hazel realized that Bigwig was actually looking forward to meeting the Efrafan assault. He knew he could fight and he meant to show it. He was not thinking of anything else. The hopelessness of their chances had no important place in his thoughts. Even the sound of the digging, clearer already, only set him thinking of the best way to sell his life as dearly as he could.” 

“I like him.” Dean had a habit of interrupting Sam as he read as if he could have a dialogue with the author. “I don’t know why they keep making him out to be such an idiot the rest of the time.” 

“Not an idiot. Single minded in his purpose.” Castiel tilted his head back until Sam dropped a hand into his dark hair. “He’s a bully that becomes a hero.” 

“I don’t know if it’s heroic or suicidal.” Sam mused. “I mean, he’s ready to go into a fight determined to die.” 

The thought settled uneasily among them. Once, they had all thought that to fight for the good of all mankind seemed nobler than saying selfishly, “I deserve to live”. Sam wasn’t sure if that was, in point of fact, suicidal, but it was damn close. 

“You do what you have to do.” Dean sat up, breath brushing over Sam’s cheek. “Right?” 

“Yeah, you do.” Sam looped an arm around Dean’s shoulders. They were bent these days, too many years spent carrying too much weight. “Maybe I should switch books for awhile.” 

“It’s rabbits, Sammy. We’re not going to get traumatized by hippty-hops.” 

But Sam didn’t read any more just then. Instead, they collectively called it a night, Dean dousing the fire and Castiel covering machine parts with a tarp. Sam spent those few minutes negotiating himself into standing and limping his way into the house. The rolling thunderstorms had been hell on his knee and he wasn’t too proud anymore to admit it. It often hurt worse than Cas and Dean even knew and he’d started to wonder if he needed more surgery on the damn thing. 

He navigated around the mess of the living room and clung to the bathroom sink to brush his teeth. Castiel came in, taking a long piss before elbowing in next to Sam to wash his face. 

“You think you can get it back together?” Sam asked after spitting a glob of foam down the drain. 

“With world enough and time.” Castiel met his gaze in the mirror. They looked odd together like that, pale and golden like portraits painted in different seasons. 

“Threw some wood in the bedroom fireplace.” Dean called in through the door. “Should I light it up?” 

“It’s not that cold yet, you arsonist!” Sam shouted back. 

“You never know! Between Cas’ feet and your freaky hands I might get icicled in the middle of the night!” 

“Baby!” 

“Freezepop!” 

Castiel laughed silently, his shoulders shaking up and down. Sam grinned wildly at him, pleased by that sign of joy. He nudged Castiel, before shouting again, 

“Brush your teeth or you’ll be back at the dentist!” 

“Fuck you! I’ve got enamel of the gods!” 

“That’s not what your xrays keep showing, Cavityboy!” 

“That’s Cavityman to you!” 

They eventually settled on leaving the fire unlit, but the extra comforter waited at the foot of the bed. Dean burrowed shamelessly into the middle of the bed, setting his cold nose on Sam’s shoulder and tugging at Castiel’s hand until he was in proper big spoon position with one hand resting on Dean’s heart. 

“You’re fooling exactly no one.” Sam rolled his eyes and pulled the comforter all the way up. 

“Talking time is over. Sleeping time is now.” Dean informed him, then dusted a kiss over Sam’s shoulder. 

“Uh huh.” Sam dropped a return kiss on Dean’s forehead, then reached over him to kiss Castiel once. “Night.” 

Sam still had nightmares. No matter how far away the memories got, there was no avoiding the fact that he’d spent ten times longer in hell than he had on earth and some of those earth bound years looked an awful like hell. Fire and frost singed the edges of his unconscious hours, leaving a burnt taste in his mouth when he woke. There was an empty space where Dean should have been, but Cas rolled to fill it, settling against Sam with a grumble. 

“Dean?” Sam called softly, heard the rustle of movement in the other room. Dean turned the corner, caught out in the doorway, boxers and a blanket thrown around his shoulders, trailing to the floor like a cape. 

“Damn rooster woke me.” Dean shrugged. 

“It’s not even dawn yet.” 

“Tell that to the fucking bird.” 

But Dean came back to bed, wiggled up against Cas and reached across him to set his hand low on Sam’s belly. Soon the sun would rise, peeling up Cas’ eyelids and send him shuffling to the kitchen. Cas would brew coffee, elbows on the countertop and a yawn hanging onto his lips. Sam would follow soon after, pouring them both mugs of coffee and sidling in beside Cas to watch the early morning light across the lake. Eventually, Dean would stumble in and bitch his way through making breakfast. 

It was stupid, how much Sam liked the regularity of a morning routine. He liked the sameness of their days too though it should bore him, should itch at his adrenaline junkie brain. Instead, the mellow rise and set of their days had worked itself under his skin and he relied on the constancy. 

“Go back to sleep, Sammy.” Dean rubbed slow circles over Sam’s stomach. “Gonna wake, Cas if you keep up like that.” 

“He already did.” Cas growled, face still buried in the sheets. 

“Aw, see?” Dean snickered, smeared a messy kiss to Cas’ shoulder. 

“Hate.” Cas seethed, though he didn’t protest as Dean went on kissing, tracing a line up Cas’ neck and planting one square on his slack lips.   
The mess of tangled limbs and bed head did eventually make it to breakfast. Dean made pancakes while Sam inhaled the medicinal steam from his first cup of coffee. The pipes clanged as Castiel took an early shower, singing something soulful in Enochian all the while. 

“Sam?” Dean asked, his voice lowered to slide under Castiel’s song. 

“Hmm?” Sam reached up, expecting a plate to fill his empty palm. None was forthcoming. Frowning, he glanced up and found Dean staring at him, eyebrows knit together in thought. 

“What?” 

“Do you ever get bored?” 

“Bored of what?” Sam rubbed at his eyes. He’d left his glasses...somewhere. Again. He didn’t need them to read Dean’s expression, but he preferred the distance they created sometimes. 

“Just...this. This life. I mean...just being. Shouldn’t we be out there?” 

“What brought that on?” Sam reached out, tugged Dean close. 

“I don’t know,” Dean let himself be pulled, tumbling into Sam’s lap in a way he’d usually fight. “Just something I woke up thinking.” 

“That why you weren’t in bed this morning?” 

“Yeah. I dreamed of something...I don’t know. Screaming, I guess.” 

Sam searched for words, resting his chin on one of Dean’s stooped shoulders. They’d had this conversation a lot when they’d first settled by the lake. Sam had shared Dean’s dread back then, their irritation scrapping each other raw. But that had been a long time ago. Now they were more like...three rocks in the river, smoothed to a sheen beneath the flow of time. 

“How much more could we give?” Sam asked finally. “What did we have left?” 

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, tension flowing out of his muscles and making him dead weight. For a moment, Sam thought he might even have gone back to sleep which would have been bad news for Sam’s already aching knee.

“Guess I just sort of feel...spoiled now.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam pushed at him gently. “Then you should finish making my damn breakfast, Cinderella. That’ll help.” 

By the time Castiel came in and poured Sam a second cup of coffee, it was as if the conversation hadn’t happened. Yet, it lingered with Sam all day. He went out to the porch and worked on the second edition of ‘Practical Hunting for Beginners’, his pride and joy. He could hear Castiel’s shout of achievement and the purr of the mower starting back up. He could see Dean’s bright blue baseball cap as he weaved in and out of sight, gathering up herbs for the kits that shipped along with the book. 

The sun crept along the porch and the air smelled of wildflowers. There was no where Sam had to be, no one’s life holding on by a thread or dire prophecy tapping its watch. The book did good when it went out into the world, so it wasn’t as if he’d given up altogether. He drummed his fingers over the lined pages of his notebook. 

He walked down the mental path of ‘what if’ and got so lost, he didn’t notice Cas coming up the steps or settling in the chair next to him. But Cas had a cat’s patience for attention, wrapping his hand around Sam’s wrist when he didn’t look up. 

“Did you hear the mower?” Cas asked when Sam tore himself loose. 

“Yeah, you did good.” 

“Whither dost thou wander?” Cas asked, a smile under the borrowed words. 

“Nowhere useful,” Sam hesitated, biting back the question that he had long feared to put to words. 

“I doubt that,” Cas released Sam’s wrist to trail his fingers down over Sam’s palm. 

“It’s a stupid thought.” 

“Possibly.” 

“Thanks,” Sam rolled his eyes.” 

“I’m only acknowledging that everyone occasionally has them,” Cas traced Sam’s lifeline. “What was yours?” 

“Only....” Sam looked away from Cas. He looked to the lake, the dock with its three chairs and empty easel. To the stretch of woods that never yielded up anything more dangerous than a coyote. To the road that they went down less and less in their ailing truck as their gardens and hunting sustained them more and more. 

“Only what?” Cas’ fingers stilled. 

“I wonder sometimes. Where we are.” 

“We’re here,” Castiel shrugged. 

“I know. And I remember buying this place. Remember hammering the loose boards down and Dean scavenging the furniture. I remember...all of it. Clearly. Still though...” 

“Sam,” Cas tugged up his hand and kissed the middle knuckle of his middle finger which had never quite healed right from a break. “Happiness doesn’t mean deception.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam shook away the thought. “I know. I told you it was stupid.” 

“Not stupid,” Cas joined their hands together. “Just afraid. I am too, sometimes.” 

Dean came back in time for lunch, hobbling only a little from his cramp. They ate sandwiches on the dock with their bare feet hanging in the water. Dean and Castiel hatched plans to catch the tomato-stealing chimpmunks while Sam slid the tender paged paperback out of his pocket. 

_To come to the end of a time of anxiety and fear! To feel the cloud that hung over us lift and disperse -- the cloud that dulled the heart and made happiness no more than a memory! This at least is one joy that must have been known by almost every living creature._

He ran his fingers over the words, already a little blurred from previous readings where he’d done the same. A minnow brushed over his toes. Castiel laughed, low and easy. Dean huffed out an annoyed breath. 

Sam closed his eyes and let the book slip down onto the dock. He leaned back on the sun baked wood, one arm thrown over his face. Time would slide Castiel neatly in beside him and Dean leave them both behind to cast his line into the water. The world would spin away beneath them, heedless of its inhabitants. It didn’t matter if they’d earned it or if it were some version of reality. For now it was good and Sam could accept that as enough.


End file.
